"You've done---"
My eyelids twitch as I glare at her. I may or may not lick my lips, as if her neck suddenly looks delicious to me. That's enough to shut her up. I wonder for how long.
"Alyssa, is this the guy? Do you remember?"
Her eyes widen as she takes in the photo on the card I hold inches from her face. It's not fair to spring this on her, to cause such alarm, but it's not fair that she went through this in the first place.
Whimpering, she nods.
"That's definitely him?"
"Yes." She's only said a few words to me since I arrived at the hospital, but this is enough.
"Not Adam?" It's essential I clarify.
"No." Her voice cracks, like she's about to cry.
"Not him. That other one."
I leap to my feet. "Right. That's all I needed to know."
"What are you going to do now?" Mrs. Palmer asks.
"Go find him, of course."
It's only a half-truth. There's one other thing I have to do before I go looking for John Williams who, in the absence of his ID card, must know that someone is after him.
I need to go home and apologise to Adam.
I return home with less speed than I travelled to the hospital, reluctant to face Adam, knowing that for once, it's me who owes the apology. It won't be pretty. Knowing Adam, he'll gloat a bit.
No , a lot. Really make me squirm. Well, if he thinks I'll be dancing to his tune for longer than it takes to say sorry, he'll have another think coming.
The flat's in darkness when I return; no lamps on anywhere apart from the living room. I walk in, resisting the urge to call out a jokey, "Hi, honey, I'm home," and stop in the doorway.
"Adam?"
He's wearing his jacket, sitting up, not slouched, looking as if he's waiting for me. Well, of course he has been all this time, but something's not right.
"Ah. You're back, then."
"And you're better?" His posture would suggest as much. Leaning forward on the settee, forearms resting on his knees. No grimacing in pain, no wincing.
Adam opens his mouth to speak, and I expect a sharp, "What do you care?" and instead get, "Yes." A brief nod. "I am. All healed. How's your friend?"
My God; he actually sounds concerned. But there's an edge to his voice, something barely held back. I try to name it, but can't. "Alyssa? She's groggy. Her mother? Oh, she's a piece of work.
Thinks all vampires are the same. Tars us all with the same brush, thinks we're all violent, human- hating scum."
"Give a dog a bad name, you mean?"
Oh. Ouch. "Yes. That."
"Hurts, doesn't it?"
"Um, I..."
"Never mind." Adam waves a hand, urging me to carry on. "She's healthy enough? I mean, under the circumstances?"
"Yes. Being well looked after, and woe betide any nurse who doesn't give her the care she needs, if her mother's by her side."
"And what news of her attacker, then?"
Sharpness. Yes, there's sharpness in his voice, but there's a name for it. Something I can't quite name. "She identified him."
"She identified him as the guy on the ID card I gave you?"
"Yes. And specifically says it wasn't you."
"No. Well, I knew that. I just thought it would be as well for you to hear her say it herself."
Adam stands, rubbing his hands together.
"Well..."
I cock my head, wondering what he's getting at. "Well what?"
"If that's all?"
"You're not going!" I blurt out.
"I'm not? And why wouldn't I be going?"
"Because it's the middle of the night."
"Late evening."
"Middle of the night, late evening. Same difference."
"Still plenty of travelling time left before daylight hits. Oh, wait, there was that one thing."
Adam taps his bottom lip a few times with his forefinger. "What was it again? Hold on, it's on the tip of my tongue...Ah, I know! You've yet to apologise. Don't worry; you get that dirty little sword---that's sorry, in case you were wondering ---out of your system, and I can be on my way."
"But you were so keen to come here in the first place."
"Curious, I'll admit. I mean, when someone you thought was dead shows up after seventy years and fucks you till you can't sit down, it wouldn't be right to let things end there, would it?"
"It wouldn't be right to let things end here either." I can't believe I just said that.
"No? Why's that, then?"
"Because I haven't apologised, have I? I was wrong. You were right. I mean, you were innocent."
"Can I have that in writing?"
"And I assumed it was you who'd done it, but you can't really blame me, can you? I mean, you did the same to me, and much worse besides, so..." I shrug. Helpless.
"Seventy fucking years ago, Nathan." Adam pauses. Lowers his tone considerably. "And I did it because I loved you. Then."
The pause before that final word makes it an afterthought, and for some reason, that stings. Then.
Was. Did. All past tense. Fuck. This is just guilt talking, Nathan. Guilt. That's all.
"I know. But that doesn't change the fact that I didn't want it."
"And I've felt bad about that every day since. But I can't change it. I wish I could, but I can't. I'm glad you're still here, but I can't do anything about the fact that you hate me for it." He stops and stares at me, biting his lip. As if he's waiting for me to say something. But I don't, and he carries on.
"Anyway; you can't go on for the next seventy years blaming me for every bad thing that happens, can you? I mean, I know I fucked up, but this time, I actually helped. I saved your friend's bacon, and what thanks do I get? A broken rib and an accusation of guilt."
"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. I assumed..."
"Yes?" Adam raises his eyebrows in expectation. "Go on."
"I assumed you'd hurt Alyssa as some sort of roundabout way of hurting me."
"Why on Earth would I want to hurt you?" He takes a few steps toward me. Only a few. "Oh, I get it.
